Coffee Without Milk
by LanaS
Summary: Growing up in Venice isn't easy for Lovino Vargas. His grandpa treats him like a child, his little brother constantly annoys him, and all of his friends at school seem different. His only solace is a cheerful Spanish university student who plays guitar on the street for tips, but Lovino slowly realizes even that can't stay the same.


01

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When Lovino was old enough to ignore his grandpa's warnings, he'd go out by himself and walk the streets anywhere he pleased. The freedom was a fire that burned through his entire thirteen-year-old body. So intense was the feeling that sometimes it terrified him and he wouldn't dare walk farther than a kilometer from his grandpa's house. Other times he'd wander into the other side of the island and would have to board a vaporetto to get home in time for dinner. Lovino would look at his reflection in the murky water. He was taller and lanky. He had grown several centimeters over the last year and now was only a little bit shorter than his grandpa, almost able to look his teachers in the eye without having to look up. He had heard adults call it "that awkward age," but when Lovino was navigating the city by himself without anyone telling him where he should go he felt as confident as an adult.

On one of the last mornings before Lovino's final year of lower secondary school started, he got up early and dressed, leaving his bed unmade as he snuck down the stairs. His grandpa and baby brother were already in the kitchen, singing loudly while they prepared breakfast. Lovino groaned and crouched, hoping to slip out unseen. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard, "Lovino! Come down and eat!"

"He's right here, Grandpa!" Feliciano appeared in the arch between the main room and the kitchen.

"Shit, Feliciano!"

"What was that, young man?" Grandpa Roma frowned. Lovino turned his head down.

"Nothing. Good morning."

Grandpa Roma saw Lovino dressed to go out and shook his head. "Come to the kitchen. We'll eat breakfast together this morning."

"I was going to get coffee at the bar."

"Lovino, come to the kitchen." Grandpa Roma never had to repeat himself more than once with his grandsons. Lovino bit his tongue and trudged to the table. Lately he hated these mornings when Grandpa Rome forced them to eat together. Grandpa Roma insisted on treating him like a child during the ordeal, apparently not realizing that Lovino was old enough to take care of himself.

"How about hot chocolate with breakfast?" Grandpa Rome smiled at his grandsons.

"Yes please!" Feliciano nearly fell out of his seat in excitement.

"I just want coffee. No milk." Lovino said, crossing his arms and looking out the corner of his eye for the reaction. "Please."

Grandpa Roma let out a sigh but poured the black brew into two mugs and hot chocolate into a third. Lovino grabbed his and held it in his hands. He hovered over it to let the strong-scented steam hit his face, making his eyes water with its bitterness. But he didn't care. Every morning before Grandpa Roma would weaken the coffee with milk until it turned into a light tan color that barely had any taste at all. Now he had real coffee, the original, pure and black, reflecting his face back at him, warming his hands, biting his nose. He wanted to gulp it down, to savor it, to keep it. He brought the mug to his lips and blew softly. The steam swirled and the liquid rippled. Catching Grandpa Roma out of the corner of his eye again, he took a gulp.

It was terrible!

His mouth went dry and his tongue instinctively pressed against the top of his mouth. Through force of will, he refused to let it show on his face. He swallowed once, twice. The taste lingered. He could feel it in his _teeth_. He set the mug down and grabbed a roll, smearing it with strawberry jam and stuffing it into his mouth.

Feliciano watched his brother while he ate his cereal. "Grandpa, can I have coffee, too?"

Grandpa let out a nervous laugh. "Here, you can drink mine. What am I to do? Both my grandsons are growing so fast, I can't keep up."

"I don't mean to." Feliciano sipped from the mug. His face contorted, his nose crinkling and eyes squeezing shut. He stuck his tongue out. "That's disgusting! Why do you want to drink that?" Lovino sneered as tears formed in his brother's eyes.

"Ah, well, it helps us grown-ups get moving in the morning. You children have so much energy, you don't need it. How do you like it, Lovino?"

"Of course I like it." Lovino realized this meant he'd have to drink the whole mug. Grandpa Roma smiled, but he had a faraway look in his face, like he was seeing something other than his two grandsons sitting at the breakfast table. Lovino felt something stir within him and he suddenly he felt bad, though he didn't know why. He took another sip of coffee, and it tasted a little more bearable this time. He thought he'd get used to it eventually. Until then, there was plenty of strawberry jam left.

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A/N- My creative writing teacher has a penchant for crude bildungsroman stories, but I don't really get them and it's probably why I'm not doing so well. This came about after looking through some Spamano fanart. Originally I wanted to post this as one super-long one-shot, but I don't have a lot of time to write this month (no NaNoWriMo for me this year) so I decided to post it in scenes about 1000 words long. 3 R's, please.


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